Tomorrow Never Knows
by s1ncer1ty
Summary: Ten years after the great quest, Pippin and Diamond Took and Merry and Estella Brandybuck retire to Crickhollow with plans to start a family. Yet sometimes even the best-laid plans can go sadly astray (Ch. 4/4, complete!).
1. Merry Mine

"Tomorrow Never Knows"

by s1ncer1ty

Chapter: 1/4

Warnings: Fluffy and sweet in this chapter, angsty in future chapters. Het-fic, potential liberties taken with dates of certain occurrences (such as when Merry and Estella were married, which I never have been able to figure).

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

_~*~ 1: Merry Mine ~*~_

By the year 1430 of the Shire-Reckoning, Peregrin Took had been married nearly three years to Diamond, one of the North-Tooks of Long Cleeve; and yet any who looked upon their lifestyle might still consider them newlyweds. They were still terrifically affectionate in public, even going so far as to kiss each other openly. They continued to call each other "my Diamond" and "my Pippin" in company outside their closest companions, and still possessed the ability to dance until dawn during the spring cotillions. They were truly a magnificent pair to behold, even if they managed to put myself and my own wife Estella to shame in their enthusiasm for life.

Their marriage could almost be considered a faery tale, for Diamond in spite of her fair beauty was always something of a shy lass, a wallflower asked last to dance at the cotillions. She would shun the flowers brought to her by her suitors, leading many -- myself, to my embarrassment, included -- to perceive her as aloof and self-centred. Yet Pippin could see something special within her, beyond the closed-off exterior and politely cold rebuffs. Even though he could easily have had almost any woman in Buckland -- and indeed, he had for a time cut quite a dash through the village courting the lasses -- it was Diamond whom he had set his heart upon.

I still recall fondly the first time I'd spoken at length with Diamond, during the spring cotillion of 1426 and Pippin had again set out to woo the coy lass of Long Cleeve. After spending much of the evening seeking a dance with her, he'd finally convinced her to join him in a vigourous reel, leaving her breathless and begging for a rest at the end of it all. Leading her back from the dance floor, with barely a pause, Pippin had spun Diamond towards our table and pulled out a chair, which she'd collapsed into immediately.

"Shall I get you something to drink? You look worn," Pippin remarked, not yet sitting down himself.

"I just need a rest," Diamond stated, twisting her fingertips together as she clasped her hands upon the top of the table. "I'll be fine."

"Cider it is," returned Pippin with a grin. His mischievous green eyes flicked towards myself and Estella, who'd accompanied me that evening as my date. "And for the two of you? Merry? Stelly?"

"I've my own drink already," I said, indicating the large stein (pint-sized, after the fashion of Bree) before me.

"Well, I could use a drink," Estella remarked, narrowing her eyes somewhat at Pippin. She still found it irritating that he would call her "Stelly," as he had when he was a ruthlessly teasing slip of a tweenager. "Since you're like as not to spill mine, I'll come with you to help you carry it."

"You're all heart, Stelly Bolger," stated Pippin as he pulled out the edge of her chair, even as she stared at him with suspicion. To Diamond, whose knuckles had turned slightly white, he added, "Don't go anywhere. Berliac Brandybuck makes the best cider this side of the Brandywine River, which Merry here can certainly attest to. It'd be a shame if you were to dash off and miss out."

Pippin was still smiling almost euphorically as he offered Estella his arm, and the two disappeared in search of drinks, leaving me to look over the fidgeting hobbit lass who refused to meet my eye.

"So tell me, lass, are you having a good time?" I asked as I took a drink of cider, expecting little more than a word or two from the uncomfortable Diamond.

Yet Diamond was flushed still from seeking to keep up with the seemingly neverending energy of my cousin, and it was in a startled euphoria that she turned to me and exclaimed, "Oh, Merry, it's amazing that one such as Pippin could find interest in a simple hobbit as myself."

Having never heard more than three words from the quiet lass at one time, I nearly choked behind the stein raised to my lips. As I wiped away the stray drops of cider, I laughed amiably and returned, "Simple pleasures for simple minds, that's what I always say."

For a moment, Diamond blushed to the delicately pretty tips of her hobbit ears; and I found myself in even greater shock when she replied, "Then I had better allow him to court me without hesitation. Or else I may find myself at the mercy of your own affection."

I could do nothing more than stare at her for a moment in startled silence, until she allowed herself to be consumed by thin giggling hidden behind a handkerchief. At that moment, the mood broke, and I was unable to contain the well of laughter within my heart. The ice had been broken, and I knew at that moment that I was indeed fond of Diamond of Long Cleeve and her subtle wit. Conversation came infinitely easier between us after that, and we discussed topics ranging from family (of which hers was indeed large) to the state of cousin Berliac's cider (undisputedly the best in all Buckland). And while coaxing words from Diamond proved to be a strenuous task, it was certainly a rewarding one when she did bring herself to speak, for she was indeed more congenial and well-spoken than I'd ever thought possible.

Pippin and Estella had returned carrying three large mugs of cider by the time the next dance had started up, and at that point Diamond and I had cemented the beginnings of what was to be a long friendship between us. Pippin's eyes glittered with impish curiosity as he looked between myself and his date, chatting like we'd known each other for months, and Diamond and I happily recounted our previous exchange. Estella appeared scandalized, particularly at the thought that I might cast aside my affections for her, but Pippin had himself a hearty laugh at our tale.

"Simple pleasures indeed," he chuckled, turning at once to Diamond. "You're right, you had better allow me to court you before Merry gets it in his mind to take my place, for there is no mind simpler than his. What shall it be, Diamond? Will you permit me to be your one and only?"

"Only if you will permit me the next dance," she responded in a soft, almost hesitant voice. Estella and I looked at each other with brows raised in surprise -- hobbit lasses were never so forward as to ask the lads to dance.

But Pippin, in all his good nature, appeared to care little for her breach of hobbit etiquette, and he stated, "I would dance with you across heaven and earth if you asked."

And when the next dance was struck upon the strings of the lute, a mightily blushing Diamond extended her hand to Pippin, who took it with gentle eagerness and led her to the floor. I turned, then, to my own date and offered her my arm and a warm smile.

"If you think I'm dancing with you after that, Merry Brandybuck, then you're sadly mistaken!" Estella sniffed, her chin raised defiantly in the air.

"Come now, Estella, it was but a joke. There will be no losing me to Diamond." I knew that she was not truly angry and was instead putting up an offended front, as she often did when confronted by my humour. "I know that you enjoy this song, so there's no sense in being stubborn. Dance with me."

Despite the disapproving narrowing of her eyes, she took my hand regardless and allowed me to lead her towards the dance floor. The music was slow, and I gathered her close within my arms. From over her shoulder, I could see Pippin stroking the waist-length plait that hung down Diamond's back as the two danced almost intertwined -- the lad was head over heels, for certain.

"What do you think of them?" Estella asked finally, lifting serious brown eyes to me.

"What do I think of them?" I repeated as I gazed down at her in confusion. "You know full well that Pippin is my best mate. As for Diamond, I've not known her long, but she seems a pleasant lass once you get to know her."

"No, I mean, what do you think of them together? They're both _Tooks_," she added with a slight edge of distaste in her tone.

"That they are indeed, two fine Tookish specimens if I may say so myself. Must I remind you, my dear," I stated, gently tapping the end of her snub nose with a fingertip, "that I myself am half-Took?"

"I mean no offense by it," my Estella stated, coloring slightly at the cheeks. "I merely wonder what a union of two Tooks might imply. Something queer, for certain." She smirked faintly before adding, "Besides, you are more Brandybuck than Took, and not merely in name alone."

"You've a fancy for Brandybucks then, do you?" I remarked, smiling just as mischievously at her.

"No. Just one." The gleam in her eye was irresistible, and I could not help the impetuous words that emerged from my mouth of their own accord, pushing past the suddenly wild thudding of my heart.

"Maybe I should ask you to marry me, then, so you'll think no more of this rogue Brandybuck and his wild ways."

Estella, however, appeared troubled despite the easy and reassuring grin that had settled upon my lips. "Now, Merry, we've discussed this before. I'm in no shape to be marrying the likes of you."

"Oh, Estella, it matters not to me. As I've told you before."

"But the heir to the Master of Buckland--" she protested.

"Loves you with all his heart, regardless of your condition. For me, there can be no other." I placed my fingertips at her chin as she sought to look away. "Haven't you learned that by now?"

"But... What will everyone say?"

"They will say, 'There go two fine hobbits of Buckland, just married. Isn't young love a glorious thing?'"

"No, Merry! When they find out... What will they say when they find out?" Estella returned hotly. 

"Who is to say that they'll find out?" I inquired, desperately gazing down into her eyes -- eyes that I had grown to love dearly, ones I would follow to doom and back. "We'll never have to tell them. And if they begin to suspect, then we shall cross that bridge when we come to it. Until then, I have every intention of living in the moment, and I wish to share every moment with you."

"Then, Merry, you don't care?" she murmured, her fine brow wrinkled in concern.

"What have I been saying this whole time, you silly lass? Now, will you have my hand or not? You've only one chance now." Priding myself on overcoming nearly impossible odds, I held my breath against the decided gamble.

Though rarely one to cry, a loose tear dripped from Estella eye, and she hastily pushed it away. "I shall, then, Merry mine."

I laughed aloud and wound my arms tightly around her, she who would be my one wife. "Estella," I said between kisses upon her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, her chin. Elated, too close to tears myself, I could say little more. "My Estella. My Estella."

That night, Pippin bought us more drinks than we'd ever seen in our lives, and he and I had a smoke of the finest Old Toby pipe weed while Estella and Diamond breathlessly talked of weddings and flowers and dresses -- hesitantly at first; yet before the evening was over, they were linked arm-in-arm like sisters. The other hobbit lasses at the cotillion looked upon our dates with envy, and the lads breathed a sigh of relief that they would again have a chance with those we hadn't chosen to court.

Several months down the line, Estella and I were properly married in a lavish Buckland ceremony, and although Pippin vocally lamented the loss of another bachelor, he walked down the aisle a short time later with Diamond. Despite our parents' wishes, we all agreed to make our home in Crickhollow on the north end of Buckland. From there, we had designs to build a complex that would rival Brandy Hall or the Great Smials, youthful dreams that have yet to be realized.

It was in Crickhollow that we resided to the very present. And, three years after the cotillion that brought us all together, my Estella and I waited with decided anxiousness for any news that Pippin and Diamond might finally start a family.

...tbc...


	2. Concerning Estella

"Tomorrow Never Knows"

by s1ncer1ty

Chapter: 2/4

Warnings: Still a little fluffy, but here's where it starts to get angsty. Same warnings as the previous chapter. Also, sorry for any oddness in formatting -- I just joined the Dark Side and bought a PC to replace my ailing Mac, so am still getting familiar with the quirks of Word's HTML format.

Orcs killed: None. V. disappointing. Stubble update: None. As a Woman, would be v. frightening. Disclaimer regarding Tolkien's characters: Still not mine.

_~*~ 2: Concerning Estella ~*~_

"Peregrin Took!" my Estella's voice thundered through the tunnels of our shared home in Crickhollow. "How many times have I told you -- the kitchen is _off-limits_ to the likes of you!"

I heard no response from Pippin save his laughter as he burst through door to my study without knocking and fell heavily into the chair beside my desk. A small plate holding three stewed button mushrooms found its way to the top of my papers, and I met Pippin's gaze with a shake of my head as I wiped the tip of my pen upon the blotter and set it aside.

"I couldn't help it," he immediately exclaimed around his own mouthful of pilfered mushrooms. "Your wife makes the best mushroom stew I'd ever tasted." Swallowing, he added, "Now I know how Fatty Bolger came upon his name. If my sisters ever cooked as well as his, they would have to roll me out of the kitchen!"

I couldn't completely blame Pippin for his enthusiasm, as my Estella had closed herself off in the kitchen for the entire day preparing a particularly special and delectable mushroom stew. Just as it was tradition every year to celebrate old Bilbo and Frodo Baggins' birthdays in absentia, so too did we celebrate the date that commemorated the destruction of the One Ring and the end to the Great Darkness, March 25. In 1430, as it had for the past three years, the celebration was a private one in the winding recesses that comprised our hole at Crickhollow. The four of us -- Pippin, Diamond, my Estella, and myself -- would gather for a great meal and fine drink, more lavish than we might normally present for ourselves on a daily basis. Occasionally, we would entertain Samwise and Rosie Gamgee; however, the steadily growing size of their family and the oft-pregnant condition of Rosie made it a difficult trip for them to make every year, as it was a great many miles between Buckland and Bag End. When we gathered, we would speak very little of the past -- for even after ten years the wounds were still painful for myself and Pippin -- but spoke kind words of the present and even some of the future.

Yet though I could not condone Pippin's behaviour today, I did find the truth in his words as I savored the taste of warm mushrooms cooked by my Estella's skilled hands. Again, I counted myself infinitely lucky, as my wife did indeed make some of the best food I'd ever eaten, and the mushrooms that Pippin had nicked were no exception. "Come, Pip, don't you have anything better to do than pester my Estella in the kitchen? If you're not careful, you may find one day that she's done something horrible to those mushrooms you love so dearly!"

"She'd never do such a thing," Pippin returned. "She takes too much pride in her cooking -- and well she should! As for my plans for the day, I've nothing to do until supper. Estella has confined herself to the kitchen, you are here with your writing-things, and my Diamond is out in town to visit..." He trailed off faintly, leaving the thought unfinished. "Anyway, I must entertain myself somehow before supper!"

"Nothing to do but pine for your beloved, eh?" I murmured, setting the empty plate aside and arranging the loose papers upon my desk. "Well, Pip, we're a little old to be causing trouble like we used to, so we shall have to find another way to pass the time."

"Something suitable for stodgy old men like us?" Pippin jokingly remarked with a wrinkle of his nose. His legs bounced with either pent-up energy or something akin to nervousness.

Just then, the gentle thud of the front door's closing resounded through our hobbit-hole, and I said quietly, "Diamond's home."

His eyes lighting, Pippin pushed himself immediately to his feet, the beginnings of a smile catching the corners of his lips. "Excuse me, Merry. I must see to my Diamond."

"At least take your empty plate with you, silly Took!" I exclaimed in vain towards his swiftly retreating figure. Although he slammed the door on his way out, I said nothing more regarding the plate he'd left behind; for I had glimpsed for the briefest moment an odd glimmer within his green eyes, a strange light of deep concern that he had sought valiantly to hide.

_Ah well,_ I thought as I gave my papers one last perusal. _If it is something to be concerned about, I am sure it will come out in its own due time. Until then, far be it for me to intrude._

After my Estella had finally called us to supper and had handed out heaping plates of mushroom stew, potatoes, and carrots, it became obvious that this year's celebration would be distinctly different from those of previous years.

Diamond had taken ill for the past week, and its effects were still present in the grey of her fae features and the way she fussed with her food, hardly eating a bite, even if -- like all good hobbits -- her passion for mushrooms was unmatched. Pippin, too, was somewhat more subdued than usual at the table as he cast continuous, furtive glances to his wife; whatever her concerns had been in town, she apparently had not told him, and his curiosity and concern were almost tangible. The keen eyes of my Estella noticed the change that had come over the normally jovial Tooks, and she kept discussion light yet constant, enough to make the supper appear outwardly the jolly event that it should be.

Finally, Diamond dispelled the obvious tension as she rose to her feet, her fair cheeks flushed lividly against the otherwise pale of her skin. "Everyone, I have something I must say," she interjected, mercifully cutting off my Estella's halfhearted gossip surrounding the Widow Burrows and her twenty cats.

Briefly, I met my Estella's gaze -- as confused as my own -- before turning my eyes to Pippin. He had stopped eating completely and stared at his wife with that very same concern I'd glimpsed earlier in the study. I set aside my fork and watched as Diamond struggled with her words, and my brows furrowed in an unnatural apprehension.

"You all know I've been unwell, so I took it upon myself to visit the healer at the centre of town today. They discovered what has been ailing me this past week," Diamond continued in her soft voice. Although a faint shudder at first passed through her shoulders, when she looked up a tiny smile had broken out upon her lips. "I am expecting. There will be a family soon at Crickhollow."

An elated cry burst forth from Pippin as he knocked aside his chair in such haste to gather his wife into his arms. "Diamond, my Diamond," he exclaimed, kissing her full upon the lips. "Are you serious? Can this be true?"

"It is most certainly the truth, my Pippin," Diamond responded as she buried herself in the warm comfort of his arms. "The child is even yours."

Pippin laughed brightly at the jest, kissed his wife once more, and released his embrace so he could pull aside her chair and carefully lower her into it, as if she was already fully showing. "Oh, my Diamond, you must sit, rest yourself up! And eat! For now you are eating for two!" Hastily, he pushed her nearly untouched plate of mushroom stew before her before suddenly changing his mind and shoving it away. "On second thought, if it will make you ill, then perhaps you shouldn't eat!"

"Or perhaps you could stop coddling her as if she were an invalid!" my Estella exclaimed, although a cheerful, good-natured grin was upon her face. "Congratulations, Diamond, Pippin! This is wonderful news!"

"Yes, congratulations are in order," I dimly heard myself say. I was certainly happy for my cousin and his wife, but I couldn't help but feel as if the news were unfolding to me within a dream. Beneath my joy was a certain undertone of crushing disappointment, but damned if I were to let it be known on such a happy occasion. I raised my glass of ale. "A toast to the newest addition to Crickhollow! May he be blessed with all the happiness one can afford!"

With smiles all around, we touched glasses and drank to the health of the Tooks' child. The remainder of supper passed in a blur, spinning with a renewed, enthusiastic chatter from Pippin and giggling discussion between Diamond and my Estella regarding baby clothes, blankets, and toys. I myself found solace in silence, yet kept a facade of a grin upon my face -- hiding the fact that, although I was truly happy for the Tooks, I was also unexpectedly saddened. No one seemed to notice when I finished the plate of my Estella's fine stew, pushed in my chair, and retired to the front stoop of our shared hobbit-hole with a bag of pipe weed and my own shadowy thoughts.

The sun had since begun to pass long shadows over the ground, and I was on my second bowl of pipe weed by the time Pippin found me upon the stoop. With a wide grin upon his face, he immediately settled upon a spot of ground beside me. I did not speak but only smiled faintly as I passed the long-handled pipe to him.

"Merry, can you believe it? I'm to be a father!" he exclaimed, taking a long drag on the pipe and exhaling in a thin stream of smoke.

"Against all my warnings about a Took breeding, at that," I returned in a half-hearted joke.

"And for once it seems I'm ahead of you. You'll have to work harder to keep up, cousin mine," he chuckled. 

Instead of joining Pippin in laughter, I reached over and snatched the pipe from him, taking a long pull on the smouldering weed. I was feeling, perhaps, more moody than I had any right to be; after all, Pippin had just received some of the happiest news that all those at Crickhollow had heard in a long while.

Pippin finally seemed to sense the shift in my mood from earlier in the evening, and he blinked at me curiously. "Merry, is something the matter?"

"Nothing is the matter, Pip," I stated uncomfortably. "Nothing I have designs to talk about this evening, at any rate."

"Now, now," Pippin returned, scooting closer to me upon the stoop. "If there is something on your mind, you must bring it out into the open. I'll not stand for brooding tonight! It's too important a time for either of us to be sad, and I would indeed be sad if you were."

"Pippin!" I snapped as I fixed him with a defensive glare. "I've told you I don't wish to talk. Would you let it go?"

He was quiet for a moment, deep green eyes locked upon me in an assessing gaze. A gentle, if somewhat impish, smile then tugged at the edges of his lips, and he shook his head. "No, cousin, I will not let it go."

"You're exasperating, you know that?" I grumbled.

"Of course," he responded good-naturedly. "Now, you'll speak with me or I'll make even more of an annoyance out of myself."

I sighed deeply and took another drag from the pipe weed to steady my nerves. "Do you promise, Pip, to keep this between you and me, if I tell you?"

"May I be cast into the cracks of Mount Doom if I dare tell a soul," he remarked flippantly, the only one of us remaining hobbits who would ever willingly joke about our terrible quest. I shuddered at the imagery, but it was through those words that I know Pippin was most sincere.

"It's just..." I began, hesitantly at first. "Do you remember the great pox epidemic of 1400?"

"Only barely," he said. "I was very young. I do remember a week of terrible misery, during which time Mum bound my hands together with rags to keep me from scratching at those horribly itchy welts."

I nodded slowly, a great sigh escaping my chest. "Well, you and I, Pip, we were the lucky ones. Not every hobbit that caught the pox was merely itchy for a week. Some were feverish, some went blind, some even worse. A few even died from the affliction."

Pippin's brow furrowed, the beginning hints of impatience gathering upon his face. "What are you telling me this for?" he murmured.

My fingers twisted uncomfortably against the bowl of the long-handled pipe, and my voice dropped to a murmur. Pippin leaned closer to me to hear my muted speech as the truth I sought so hard to hide finally came out into the open. "My Estella was fifteen when she caught the pox, still a slip of a lass. She barely survived the ordeal..." I trailed off, and Pippin stared at me anxiously until I managed to continue in a flood of words, "I don't rightly know all the details, but somehow the pox spread to her female parts, on the inside."

"Oh, Merry," he murmured, face pale with shock. "I'm so sorry. I hadn't known..."

"So you see, Pip," I continued, flushing with combined anger and shame, and ignoring the wide-eyed expression of my cousin, "My Estella and I shall never have children of our own. We will never be graced with a bright-eyed son or daughter, nor awakened in the night by hungry cries. The pox made certain that we would never find happiness in a baby's laughter."

Pippin's hand found its way immediately to the center of my back, and he smiled wanly. "Never worry, cousin. My child is to be a Took through and through -- give him enough time, and I'm certain you'll be entirely sick of hearing his laughter."

"But you do see why this should be kept quiet, yes? The heir to Buckland should rightfully be able to produce an heir of his own."

Pippin nodded thoughtfully, rubbing his chin in contemplation. "Did you know of Estella's condition before you married her?"

My eyes narrowed and I uttered, defensively, "Yes, I knew. I loved her regardless, and still do."

Although at first Pippin's laugh took me somewhat off guard, it dawned on me that I should have fully expected all along that he of all hobbits would best understand our plight. "Oh, Merry, I do not fault you for it! But listen to me -- while you may not pass down the title of Brandybuck to the next generation, you can still find comfort in your Estella. The pox did not kill her, nor did it extinguish her spirit. You may not have a child, but you have a loving, caring, and -- dare I say -- beautiful wife to share your life with. You are truly blessed, and any hobbit who cannot see that is but a fool!"

Blinking, I met my cousin's bright-eyed gaze and matched his grin with a burgeoning one of my own. "Prat. I'm supposed to be the wise one here. You're making me look bad. Indeed, you are right, cousin, for once," I toss in with a light smirk. 

"Besides," he continued, a wicked glimmer crossing his eyes, "there's nothing that says you cannot keep _trying for a child."_

"Oh, we do, dear Pippin. Indeed we do," I stated, and, Pippin joined me in bright laughter that rose above the ridge of hobbit-holes that comprised the village of Crickhollow, mingling with our pipe smoke heavenward towards the golden disc of the setting sun. And for a time, all was again well with the world.

...tbc...


	3. Diamond's Darkest Hour

"Tomorrow Never Knows"  
by s1ncer1ty

Chapter: 3/4  
Warnings: Aah, angst. How we likess it! This is progressing a lot faster than I expected, so the final chapter should be available soon, soon my preciousss.  
Disclaimer: Still not mine. Especially Frodo. Sam would kill me!

_~*~ 3: Diamond's Darkest Hour ~*~_

As Diamond Took's pregnancy drew to a close, our hole at Crickhollow was graced by a whirlwind of laughter embodied in Pippin's eldest sister, Pearl Took. Pearl herself had never married, although she possessed a dear affection for children, and had instead taken on the duties of a midwife, one of the few professions seen as acceptable for a hobbit lass. Her fair-coloured hair, already shot through the temples with grey, was constantly fraying from her braids, and there was rarely a time that an eccentric grin was not broadcast across her face; yet at the same time, Pearl took great seriousness in her duties. Swift was her assessment of even minor shifts in Diamond's temperature, and she brought to the table much-needed assistance to my Estella, for as Diamond grew heavy with child, she found even the most minor of tasks unduly strenuous.

As for Diamond herself, her pregnancy had never settled completely well with her. The morning sickness fell upon her with particular virulence, and even after the first crucial months it never fully abated. Her ankles constantly ached, and her skin took on a greyish pallor. Ever the dutiful husband, Pippin fussed about her without fail, and if he could not alleviate her discomfort, he instead brought to her face sporadic smiles with his jokes and tales of his reckless past. However, these grins rarely lasted long outside the company of her beloved, and even my Estella seemed at a loss for what we might do to assist her.

"I cannot stand it, Merry!" Diamond had tearfully confided to me once in the privacy of my study. "It's as if this child does not even want to be held inside me, and if he cannot get out then he will make my life as miserable as possible in the meantime!"

"Now, Diamond, fret not," I had stated, taking ahold of her hand and patting it consolingly. "I'm certain that he is not doing so on purpose! Or perhaps he is preparing you for what is to come -- all the Tooks in their youth, the girls included, were handfuls. Mightily taxing upon their parents, but all were joys to behold."

"I'm such a terrible lass, though," she had murmured, the tears falling faster as she spoke. I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and passed it into her hands. "I've had horrible thoughts that I don't even mean! There have been times when I haven't wanted this child."

I recall pulling her gently into my arms as she cried, and I consoled her as best I could. "Now, Diamond, I know you don't mean it. It cannot be easy for you, having been so ill for as long as you have. It will be over soon, and trust me, you will be all the more happy once the child is born." 

As Diamond's broadening stomach pressed against mine, I had felt the thrum of the baby's legs, kicking as if he did indeed wish to be freed, to be allowed to run fast, hard, and unrestrained in the manner of all Tooks. It was then that I truly understood her discomfort, and felt all that much more sympathy for her plight. Yet we had never told Pippin of our discussion in the study, for we both knew that it might easily break his heart.

The skies had opened up in a great deluge of rain the night that Diamond went into labour. Although they had prepared long for it, Pearl and my Estella were in a tizzy, dashing about the hobbit-hole in search of towels, basins of water, fresh linens. As was common practice among our kind, the lads were not permitted near the birthing room, for the delivering of babies was the exclusive right of the lasses to attend to. Pippin had been caught in town as Diamond's labour bore down fiercely upon her, and her anguished moans began to fill the halls of our hole. Anxiously I waited for Pippin near the front door, unable to read more than a word or two at a time from my book. It was mid-afternoon by the time he finally arrived home, shivering beneath the sopping weight of his cloak.

"Oi, Merry, you should see the height of the Brandywine River," he said as he bustled through the door and dropped the sack of groceries. "They're saying that it may well overflow if the rains keep up, and --" He broke off, sensing the impatience that wound about me and had me bouncing upon the balls of my feet. "What are you on about now?"

"Pippin, it's time!" I said with a wide grin.

"Huh? Time?" he asked. Then, in recognition, his hand clapped to his lips, and a laugh escaped him. "It's time! My Diamond! I must wish her well!"

Grasping hold of his shoulders, I restrained him as he sought to push past me. "It's too late, Pip. She's already well into her labour. My Estella and Pearl won't let either of us past them into the birthing room."

"You're sure she's completely into labour?" he asked anxiously, straining at first against my grip.

Another moan filtered down from Diamond's room, and Pippin froze at the sound. "I'm absolutely certain, Pip. Why don't we put the groceries away and then have ourselves a drink while we wait?"

Pippin did not respond immediately, instead keeping his eyes trained upon the winding inward tunnel and his ears perked for any further sounds of pain from his wife. When none came, he relaxed in my hands and pulled away. "Your Estella will merely chide us for not putting things away properly," he stated softly.

"Then again, she may lash us more soundly if we were merely to leave the bag by the door for the bugs to crawl into."

"Much as you might like that, it's not a prospect I'd enjoy," Pippin said in a halfhearted attempt at a joke.

"Git," I laughed, nudging Pippin's shoulder as I gathered the sack of groceries into my arms and started towards the pantry.

After putting the groceries into what appeared to be their rightful place (even knowing full well that my Estella would likely rearrange the pantry to her own liking later on), I sent Pippin ahead into my study to kindle the fire while I rooted through our collection of meads for a quiet drink to pass the time. I had just chosen the most appropriate bottle -- Barliman's 1420 -- when the hushed voice of Pearl Took rounded the corner to my ears.

"Psst! Brandybuck! Are you alone?" she whispered.

"What are you doing sneaking up on an unsuspecting hobbit like that?" I asked, grinning wryly. 

Yet Pearl was visibly in no mood for jests. Her normally laughing eyes uncharacteristically hard, she grasped me by the elbow and pulled me into the doorway, speaking in a low, conspiratorial tone. "Merry, I've a favour to ask of you."

"What is it?" I inquired, my brow furrowing at the intensely serious expression that found its way upon her usually jovial features.

"You must take my brother for a walk, for as long as you can manage it. Hear me, Brandybuck, it's important."

"Silly woman," I returned with a faint laugh. "Even if the sky hadn't opened up to rain, do you truly think Pippin would leave Crickhollow and miss out on the birth of his firstborn?"

Pearl's grip upon my arm tightened, and her eyes flashed angrily. The smile faded quickly from my face, as it was difficult to rouse Pippin's sister to anger; yet woe to the hobbit who ever found himself on the receiving end of that slow wrath. She continued, "The child is breech. We must turn the baby around while inside her. It will not be easy, for Diamond is already struggling, but if it is not done then both mother and child will likely die."

I felt the blood drain from my face, yet somehow I managed to force a wry grin to my lips. "Trust a child of Pippin's to come into the world backwards." More seriously, I added, "What do you suggest I do?"

Pearl rolled her eyes -- ever the impatient Took -- and groused, "I don't know, Merry! Do whatever you must. Pippin cannot interfere, even in good will."

"He's not likely to leave our home while his first child comes into the world," I returned, feeling perhaps a little stubborn in Pippin's defense. "I can make certain that he does not interfere."

Pearl leveled a glare at me. "You do not seem to understand. This is not only for Diamond's sake, but also for Pippin's. How do you think he will feel, listening to the cries of his wife in painful labour, yet unable to do anything to assist her?"

I was about to deliver a hard retort, when I was interrupted by muffled moan of pain from the birthing room, followed by a soft hail of gentle, yet hasty, hobbit footsteps.

"Pearl? Pearl, where are you?" In a flurry of petticoats, my Estella rushed to the doorway, wringing her hands within a towel that was swiftly staining crimson. 

_Oh, God, that's Diamond's blood,_ I thought as my eyes widened in horror.

"Pearl, we need you," my Estella interjected, pushing between the two of us and frowning as she and Pearl exchanged a knowing glance. Turning her wide, brown eyes to me she added, "Merry mine, are you not listening to Pearl? Don't make it any harder on Pippin than it has to be. He can't be here!"

At my wife's plea, I sighed resignedly, even if I did not fully comprehend the reasoning behind the lasses' wishes. "I'll never understand you ladies!" I sighed exasperatedly. Placing my hand on Pearl's shoulder, I said in a more gentle tone, "I will take Pippin out. You have my word."

"Thank you, Brandybuck," Pearl returned with the faintest of smiles.

"Is she --"

"She's in a lot of distress, Merry mine," interrupted my Estella. "It's to be a long night, one she might not live through. But you cannot, _cannot_ tell Pippin!"

"Go now, Merry," said Pearl, planting both hands upon the center of my back and pushing me towards the door. "His well-being rests now in your hands. Prove to me that you're capable of handling him, okay?"

"No pressure or anything!" I called out sourly towards the bustling figures of the lasses as they rushed to the birthing room hand-in-hand.

As I returned to my study, Pippin was beside the fireplace, prodding at the roaring flames with an iron poker. The flames licked high upon the back of the brick structure, evidence that my high-strung cousin could be dangerous with fire when in an anxious mood. "What took you so long?" he demanded, though with definite cheer to his impatient voice.

"Bad news, Pip," I said upon entering. "We're plum out of Barliman's 1420, and that's about the only appropriate mead for the occasion."

"Then did you get the next best bottle?" Pippin asked as he turned around from his seat beside the fireplace.

"Well, no," I lied, feeling a little guilty for having to do so. "I was thinking, why don't we brave the storm and take the walk into town? I'm sure the pub will be fully stocked on the mead we're looking for."

Pippin laughed nervously, his cheeks flushed with anxious excitement. "You're joking, right, Merry? You don't mean to say you _want_ to go out in this weather!"

I chewed lightly on my lower lip and sidled up to my cousin, looping an arm fast about his shoulders to lead him towards the front door. "Come, Pippin, a little rain never did us any harm! Why, I recall a time when we stood in the greatest of downpours for hours in hopes of stealing kisses from the Boffin girls' sleepover party when we were young."

"We were children back then," Pippin returned reluctantly. "And besides, there weren't pressing matters at home to attend to at the time either."

Although he protested aloud, Pippin made no effort to stop me as I led him from the study to where he'd hung his cloak, still damp from his earlier foray into the rain. "You know how the lasses are," I said smoothly, almost hating the sounds as they came from my lips. "They're slow to do their hair, slow to get dressed and to pee. Birthing is a slow process, too. I'll bet we could be out, back, and through three bottles of Barliman's 1420 by the time your child is born."

"But... Merry --" he objected before sighing defeatedly. "As long as we're fast about it, okay? No stopping at the pub for a pint with the fellows, nor to tease Old Farmer Maggot's dogs." As he wound his cloak about his shoulders, he let out a wry laugh. "I cannot believe I'm saying such things!"

"It is the weight of years upon you, Pip," I joked as I pinned my own cloak securely at the throat. "We may turn you into a responsible hobbit yet!"

Upon leaving the house, as if an ill omen were cast over us, the rain poured down ever harder, and Pippin and I scrambled towards the cover of trees upon the path leading to the town proper. Glancing back behind me towards Crickhollow, I spied through the candle-lit window the figure of a lass -- Pearl, most likely, judging by the frazzled state of her hair -- staring vigilantly at us, as if waiting hawklike for us to depart. I turned around quickly, settling my hand upon Pippin's back, and I led him briskly away, feeling all the while like a traitor to my own cousin.

"A bloody fine night to go for a walk, cousin," Pippin remarked with a small degree of irritation in his voice. He pulled the hood of his cloak atop his damp curls to keep away the steady spill of rain.

"It builds character, Pip," I said, picking up a brisk pace from our hobbit-hole and weighing multiple ideas on how to best stall my cousin further within my mind.

We had walked a considerable distance from Crickhollow -- yet apparently not far enough -- when the air was pierced by a horrific wail of a hobbit lass in infinite agony. 

It was then that I gained a vague understanding of Pearl's desire to have both Pippin (and myself, I would reflect in later years) as far from the birthing as possible. Diamond's cries, though muted on the wind, sent chills down my spine; I wondered, for the first time in my life, how women ever found the strength to endure the agony of childbirth. And, despite my fear for Diamond, I felt an underlying reassurance that my Estella would never have to endure such rigours.

Pippin's eyes were wide with infinite terror, the likes of which I had not seen since the terrible incident with the _palantir_. 

He was frozen fast in his tracks like a deer caught under a bright hunter's lamp. His hands clenching it white-knuckled agony at his sides, his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and his wife's name escaped his lips in a harsh whisper. "Diamond...?"

"Steady, Peregrin," I murmured, cautiously wrapping my fingers around his shoulder.

My touch, like a spell, seemed to break his paralysis, and he wrenched sharply free from my grip. The whisper of his wife's name became a hoarse shout. _"Diamond!" he shrieked, his broad feet suddenly a tangle of motion as he stumbled a few steps before breaking into a run. _"My Diamond!"__

"Pippin, no!" I exclaimed as I bolted after him. "Come back here!"

The years since the disbanding of the Fellowship and marriage to my Estella had slowed me, weighed me down with well-fed contentedness and a slower pace of life, and I found it a struggle to keep up with my swifter cousin. Although I still did not fully understand the urgency of her demands, it was the dark threat of Pearl's wrath that spurred me faster still, to match Pippin's speed, and to yank upon the back of his cloak with all my might when I finally managed to catch him. 

Immediately, I dodged a fist aimed squarely for my jaw and used my weight to throw him to the ground. Although he squirmed in a fury of thrashing limbs and speed, I somehow pinned him beneath me. A flailing arm connected with the rise of my cheekbone and exploded in a lightning sting of pain.

"Stop it, Peregrin! Stop it now," I hissed, tangled curls spilling before angrily watering eyes. I wrapped my hands about his wrists and squeezed hard, feeling the slender bones grind beneath as I pinned them at his sides.

Pippin wriggled fiercely beneath my weight, and it was all I could do to restrain him and keep him from bolting once again. "Merry! Let me go! I must get to my Diamond!"

"There's nothing you can do for her, Pippin!" I shouted down at him. "It'll be better for her if you weren't at home!"

"Pearl set you up to this," he growled, green eyes narrowing accusingly.

"And if she did?"

"Merry, if my wife or my child dies, I shall never forgive you!"

"You cannot help them now! What good will you do if you are there? We're male, Pippin –- even if we were allowed to join the midwives, it would bode terrible tidings for the child. It has never been our place to be there."

Another wail rose on the wind, and Pippin twisted towards the noise, anguish and helplessness evident in his features. "My Diamond," he whispered, and I felt a fearful tremor wrack his entire body as the urge to fight fled him. "If they are not long for this world, I do not know how I will go on."

I loosened my grip upon him and pulled him upright to cradle him in my arms. "Don't think like that, Pippin! Right now, Diamond and the child are still more than alive, and they're fighting. There's no sense in fearing the worst unless it is truly upon you!"

Pippin did not respond and instead wrapped his arms about me with a fierceness that forced the very breath from my lungs. He struggled in vain for some moments against a storm of tears, and soon he was sobbing hard against my shoulder. The last time I'd felt tears of such intensity was nearly ten years ago, when Pippin had blamed himself for the perceived death of Gandalf deep within the mines of Moria. 

"That's it, Pip. Let it go. Just let it go."

"Why, Merry? Why does she wail so?" he moaned, speech muffled against the press of my shoulder.

I pushed the brown curls from before his eyes and murmured gently, ignoring even the warning words of my Estella, "The baby is breech."

"No," I heard him choke out, and he raised his head, pushing the backs his hands impatiently across his eyes. When he looked to me, his eyes were reddened and raw. "I was breech," he whispered.

"I know," I responded, recalling vaguely the memory of Aunt Eglantine and how she would widely proclaim this fact whenever Pippin had been found in particular trouble in his days of youth. _You were nearly the death of me then, as you will be the death of me now!_ she would exclaim. "And if your mother could survive, then so can your Diamond."

An unstable grin came to his lips, and he spoke as if reassuring his own terrified conscience in addition to my own. "Then there is hope now."

"There was always hope, Pippin. _Always_," I affirmed, briskly shaking his shoulders. "Never once has it left you."

"I feel like such a child, Merry," he remarked stubbornly, once again drawing his arm across sore, watering eyes. "Unable to do more than shake and weep over my wife. If only I could help her!"

"Buck up, cousin. The night is long, but I've just the solution to wait it out." From my vest pocket, I produced a small, velvet pouch of fine pipe weed that I'd been cultivating in celebration of the birth of Pippin's child.

Before settling his arms impatiently on his knees, Pippin withdrew his own long-handled pipe and handed it to me. "I despise waiting," he murmured miserably, turning his head towards the direction of Crickhollow. Although he stared longingly towards our hobbit-hole, I was certain that he would not again bolt towards it. "I never got to say goodbye."

"And with any luck, which I'm certain still holds true, you will not have to yet. Not for a long while."

I passed him the smoking pipe, and together we sat in wracking uncertainty beneath the cover of trees, Pippin shuddering at each piercing cry that was borne to us upon the wind. It wasn't until the wails died out completely and the rain had slowed to a drizzle that we ventured back towards our hole at Crickhollow, where we found Pearl waiting expectantly upon the stoop. I embraced my cousin there, and I wished him well as he shakily pushed through the great round door, and Pearl followed him inside after giving me a nod of approval.

Yet I stayed behind, settling myself upon the stoop and looking out across the sky -- the darkest hour just before the dawn. My thoughts strayed to my Estella's mushroom stew, the twinkle in her eye, to impending sunrises and laughing cotillions. And I thought long and hard of Pippin and his laughing eyes and his still-innocent nature, knowing that I could never bear life without such luxuries.

...tbc...


	4. Pippin's Reconciliation

"Tomorrow Never Knows"  
by s1ncer1ty

Chapter: 4/4

Notes: I can't say that I'm completely happy with the way this turned out. I was feeling uninspired by the end of it, and I think it feels a little choppy. Still, I did want to put this to bed... Also, apologies for taking so long in getting this chapter out. It was a rougher week than I expected. I think I'm going to take a nap now. :) __

_~*~ 4: Pippin's Reconciliation ~*~_

The sun had begun to rise, thin streams of orange and gold that broke through the dissipating clouds upon the horizon, when my Estella finally emerged from the great round door to our hole in Crickhollow. She was visibly exhausted, her normally impeccable deep brown curls escaping in a haphazard tangle from their clasp. Without speaking, she sat beside me upon the stoop, and I slipped an arm around her waist. For a long, long while, we sat together beneath the stillness of a breaking dawn, leaning upon each other in deepest sympathy. It had been an exhausting night for both of us.

As the glimmering arc of the sun began to show her face overtop the gently rolling Shire hills, I rested my chin against my Estella's tangled curls and whispered, "How are they doing?"

"Mmh," she returned, finding her voice through a weary silence. "The baby is small, but seems to be faring well. Diamond, however, is a little worse for the wear. She'll be bedridden for some days yet, but I believe she is a strong hobbit and will more than pull through. Provided her husband gives her the support and care she'll need."

Sensing the dubiousness that had crept into my own beloved's tone, I gave a light, bemused snort and stated, "Pippin, not caring for his wife? Is this what I am hearing?"

"I mean no disrespect, Merry mine" said my Estella, voice and tone softening somewhat. "It's just that Pippin is--"

"Very much changed from his days of youth. Although in the best of ways," I finished for my wife.

My Estella sighed quietly against me, and I held her close. "And soon to be disappointed in the worst of ways. Pearl says it's likely that the child will be their only one. That there was too much blood lost during the delivery."

I raised my fingers to my forehead and bit down hard upon my lip, feeling a brief, cold despair lance through my chest. _First my Estella and now Diamond. What is to become of the Brandybucks and the Tooks?_ "He was so hoping to be a father," I managed to murmur past numbed lips.

"Merry mine, he _is_ a father," she said softly. "And he's one child more than we'll ever have."

"Are you disappointed?" I whispered, pressing my lips against her hair.

"No, I'm not. Are you?"

"Maybe a little," I had to admit.

My Estella's arms pulled tightly around me, and she drew me to her shoulder. "Don't dwell upon what we cannot have, Merry mine. I'm certain that everything has happened the way it has for a reason."

"Oh, but sometimes what I wouldn't give for the sound of laughter, of great families, echoing through the halls of our home."

"Be careful what you wish for, Brandybuck," materialized Pearl's voice from behind us, as if out of nowhere. "Life has a funny way of giving you exactly what you want, exactly when you're not expecting it."

My eyes widened in shock, my speech caught short -- I had no inkling as to how long exactly Pearl had been standing in the doorway listening to our conversation. Although I found no words of my own to respond, my Estella glanced back at Pippin's sister as she absently laced her fingers in mine. "Too true, as always, Pearl," she remarked, subdued. "We wouldn't want to tempt the wiles of fate."

Nonplussed by the darkly surprised glare I cast in her direction, Pearl crouched down and placed her hands upon our own, gently tugging them apart as she smirked in her usual, peculiar Tookish fashion. "Begging your pardon, but you two will have to disengage for a few minutes. Plenty of time for affection later." Turning to me, she added softly, "He's asked to see you, Merry."

"Is he holding up well, Pearl?" I asked hurriedly, pulling my hand from beneath Pearl's grasp.

Pearl rolled her eyes. "How am I supposed to know? I'm only his sister. You, however, are his best mate, so I guess I'll leave it to you to decide."

Kissing my wife upon the cheek, I then climbed to my feet, feeling the weary weight of the sleepless night upon my shoulders. Without another word to either of the lasses, I followed Pearl inside as Pippin had many hours before, my hands finding solace in my pockets and my thoughts twisting ever inward. 

As we approached the birthing room, which, earlier in the night, had been filled with cries of exquisite agony, I placed my hand upon Pearl's shoulder and leaned close to whisper, "Tell me, Pearl, how much did you hear outside?"

"Hear?" she responded with a surprised blink of her eyes. She then let out a small laugh and shook her head. "Enough. You should be asking me instead whether or not I care."

Frowning faintly, I played along with her game for the moment. _"Do_ you care?"

"Nope. Can't quite say I do," Pearl returned in a flippant -- though joking -- tone. "Brandybuck business is Brandybuck business."

"And will hopefully _stay_ Brandybuck business."

"I'll tell you what," said Pearl with a grin as she rested her fingers upon the latch to the birthing room. "I won't breathe a word to anyone as long as neither Diamond nor the babe awaken."

Exasperated, I suppressed a sigh. "Pearl, come on now..."

"Or how about this?" she continued in complete disregard to my impatience. "I wouldn't speak a word to anyone regardless. However, if I hear one cry from either Diamond or the child, I'll simply pound you instead, little cousin. You still aren't too big to be disciplined."

"Yes, Miss Pearl," I remarked, relief washing over me with a quiet laugh, and I thought briefly back to childhood days when Pearl would play 'schoolmarm' -- a heavy-handed schoolmarm with the ruler, at that. My knuckles tingled in the memory of Pearl's liberal application to them.

"And don't you be forgetting it, Brandybuck," said Pearl. Then, her tone softened as she opened the door. "I'll leave you for some minutes to see the babe, but I'll need you and Pippin both to clear out in a little while so I may to the mother and the child. See if you can't convince my brother to get some sleep, would you?"

"I'll do my best, ma'am," I murmured, and a quiet peal of Pearl's laughter followed me into the room.

Diamond was asleep, looking frail and grey against the linen sheets, her long lashes twitching restlessly in a web of dreams. Beside her Pippin sat upon a stool placed at her bedside, lazily stroking the back of one of her hands with his fingertips. As I entered, he gave her hand a final squeeze and immediately rose to his feet to greet me.

"Merry," he whispered in a voice quick to silence. "They're both asleep, finally."

"How are they doing?" I returned just as hushed, padding on silent feet across the room where Pippin joined me at the side of the child's crib.

"She's in pain," he murmured in a soft, aching tone. "But that's to be expected. As for the baby... Well, see for yourself."

I leaned over the rail of the crib, peering down upon a silently breathing bundle of hair, barely pointed ears, and down-covered feet. Already I could see a cleft in his chin taking shape similarly to Pippin's, and a fair widow's peak like Diamond possessed. Reaching into the crib, I placed what appeared to be a tremendously huge finger into the child's wee hand.

"He's wonderful, Pip."

"Yes, that he is," Pippin said, smiling almost sadly. "A single heir to the seat of Thain."

Giving the baby's palm a tiny pat, I retrieved my hand from the crib, straightening to look at Pippin. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"No, no," he responded hurriedly, green eyes widening. "It isn't a bad thing. It's just..." His voice trailed off momentarily before he caught his thoughts once again. "You do know that he will be our only?"

I nodded solemnly. "My Estella told me." Upon hearing his subsequent sigh, I quickly changed the subject in hopes of providing my cousin a distraction from his uncharacteristic melancholy. "Have you and Diamond come upon any names that strike your fancy?" 

The corners of Pippin's lips twitched in a brief glimmer of a grin. "We've been thinking on the name Faramir. Faramir Took. Which might or might not go over well with my Da'. While a fine and decent name for a Man, it's also most unhobbitlike."

"At least the child is male," I murmured, thinking how disappointed Thain Paladin Took II, Pippin's father, would be if the honorary title passed from his line after only one subsequent generation.

An almost dark frown gathers at the centre of Pippin's brows, and he looks to me sharply. "I'd love him just as much if he were a girl, I'll have you know."

Raising my hands in the air, I brought a wry grin to my lips and offered quickly, "I didn't mean it that way, Pip! I meant that your father will be pleased, maybe even less likely to come down so hard upon you for the child's name."

Pippin shrugged, unconvinced for the moment, and a troubled expression crossed his face, dampening the usual sparkle in his eyes. "Maybe. It's hard to tell. Da' is getting on in years, and Pearl tells me that age has not been kind to him."

As I opened my mouth to respond -- to let Pippin know that I felt his pain, and maybe to let him know that Thain Paladin only came down hard upon him because he so loved his only son -- a muted knock resounded through the door, and Pearl Took gingerly pushed her way in.

"Lads, come now," murmured Pearl, gesturing towards the entryway. "Let's leave Diamond and the babe to get some rest. It's been a long night, and I'm certain you both could use some sleep yourselves."

"Please, Pearl, let me stay with them," Pippin softly pleaded. His words, however, were halfhearted, as if he'd already had this argument with Pearl and was merely making a last-ditch effort to win her approval.

"Peregrin Took!" she uttered in a harsh, protective whisper. "You're doing yourself nor your wife any favours by hovering about! You're to go to bed, for it's likely the last time you'll have the opportunity for peace for a long while."

"She does have a point there, Pip," I said quietly.

"As for you, Brandybuck, did I not ask that you talk some sense into him?" She placed her hands firmly on her hips.

"You asked no such thing," I returned in a soft, cheerful voice, slinging my arm casually about Pippin's shoulders. "And even if you had, talking sense into your brother would have been truly in vain."

"You're incorrigible, the both of you. Come on, then, you two will catch bloody hell from me if either of them awaken. Go, sleep."

"But Pearl --" protested Pippin as he spared a fleeting glance over his shoulder to his wife's bed. Although her eyes fluttered upon the edges of dreams, Diamond never awoke, nor -- mercifully -- in later years would ever recall the subsequent days of debilitating pain that filled her waking hours.

"No buts, little brother."

Pearl bustled fully into the room and led us -- unwillingly -- towards the door, kissing us each upon the cheek on our way out. As the door shut behind him, Pippin leaned his weight heavily upon the darkly stained wood, his forehead pressed against it.

"It's funny, in a way," he murmured softly. "I'd thought between the two of us, we'd fill Crickhollow with more children than anyone had thought imaginable. I'd thought we'd even outdo Sam in terms of family."

"I'd thought that for a while myself, Pip. Funny how life truly happens when you're not paying attention, isn't it?"

"I suppose. And I know I shouldn't be sad, as both my wife and my child will certainly survive... But yet I'm still sad." His hands moved to cover his eyes, and I briefly wondered if he was in tears. Yet he turned towards me after a moment's pause, his eyes dry as he lowered his fingers. "After what I'd said many months ago in comfort for your not having children, I'm still sad."

"I do not hold it against you," I murmured softly. Sincerely. "It took me a long while to get used to it. Some days, I feel I'll never accept it. But you've known for less than a day." I placed a hand upon his shoulder and led him a short distance from Diamond and the baby's room.

"It's a shock still," he said, moving mechanically beneath my guiding hand. "Perhaps even more so for my Diamond when she awakes and learns the news."

"Or perhaps she'll see it as a blessing. No lass, especially one as sweet as Diamond, should ever have to go through what she did."

"I would never again wish such pain on her. Though isn't it amazing?" Pippin added in an awe-struck whisper, bright green eyes lifting to lock with mine. "Such pain the lasses endure. And yet, they go on, and they keep on living, and loving. It's something we'll never get to appreciate."

"Be thankful for it, Pip. Most hobbit lads buckle under scratches and falls. Even I'm ready to call for an emergency session with the healer over this," I joked lightly, pointing to my swollen cheekbone where Pippin had struck me earlier in the evening.

Pippin's eyebrows rose, and he rubbed at his forehead nervously. "I'm sorry about that, Merry. I don't know what came over me. That'll leave a bruise for a week."

"That's all right," I returned in an easygoing tone. "Scratches and bruises make one look more masculine in the eyes of the lasses."

"It'll take more than a bruise to make you appear masculine, cousin," Pippin said with a smirk.

Chuckling in good humour, I reached across and ruffled his tousled curls. My heart found solace that even through sadness, Pippin could find the strength to joke. "You're such a prat sometimes, Pip."

"You left yourself wide open for that one, Merry," he laughed faintly. "It's your own fault."

"Indeed it is," I conceded. After several steps more down the long hall, I halted in my tracks before Pippin's own room, placed both hands upon his shoulders, and turned him towards me. "Look, Peregrin, if there's anything you need, anything at all, don't hesitate to come to me. The same goes for Diamond."

He stood tall and looked at me for some moments, eyes glimmering in a very light sheen of exhausted tears, and suddenly threw his arms around me. I held him this way for a long while, his grip upon me never wavering in its intensity, and my own comfort unflagging. When he finally released me, his demeanour was again further cheered, to a small degree.

"Thank you, Merry," Pippin stated, a tiny smile upon his lips. "That's all I needed for now."

"Come now, that can't be all you need," I murmured.

"It isn't," he admitted with a shrug. "But it's the only thing that you can realistically help me with for the time being. I will need sleep, and very soon before I topple over, but I can manage that just fine on my own."

Smirking lightly, I returned, "Yes, Pip, I think that's something even you can handle. You won't hesitate to find me, though, if you do need anything, right?" I added more seriously.

"Since when have I not, Merry?" Pippin whispered, disappearing within the recesses of his bedroom, for the first time in many years alone.

As I watched his door close, I felt the great weight of years upon me, and I knew that Pippin's heart, at least, was still young enough to heal. Soon, his grief would fade, although it might take more time than it would have done ten years ago -- the pain and shock of this night would linger longer in his thoughts than the memories of our personal wars surrounding the One Ring. But I couldn't help but think that the sharpness of it would fade the moment Diamond could again stand on her own, and would only recede further at Faramir's first laugh, first steps, first recovery from illness, first theft of mushrooms from the Maggot family's farm. It would leave a scar, for certain, but as his son truly began to fill his life, the pain would be little more than a memory for Pippin.

Slowly, I followed the winding tunnels to the wing where my Estella and I kept house, entered our immaculately homey bedroom, and crawled at once into the bed where my wife slept in a silent heap beneath the colourful quilts. I curled my body around hers and rested my face against her hair, and even in the throes of slumber her hands found mine and laced together tightly, resting upon her stomach, where no baby would ever find a warm home. Yet Pippin's words many months before echoed as clearly in my head as they day they were spoken, and the full weariness of the exhausting night swiftly overcame me.

"You may not have a child, but you have a loving, caring, and -- dare I say -- beautiful wife to share your life with. You are truly blessed, and any hobbit who cannot see that is but a fool!"

"Meriadoc Brandybuck, you've been nothing but a fool yourself," I whispered, holding my Estella warm and close.

"That's hardly new news, husband mine," she mumbled from deep within sleep, hardly aware of her words.

And as a spinning well of dreams and laughter washed over me, I found for the first time that night a moment of peace in my sweet wife's arms.

...owari...

~*~

Author's Notes: This is just one of the many interpretations of the appendix to LotR, which details the lives of the Fellowship after the War of the Ring. I've taken liberties in certain dates, such as the exact year that Merry married Estella, since I have not found it noted anywhere (Indeed, in earlier editions of LotR, I've been told that the family trees don't even list Estella as his wife.). This particular version follows the family trees in later editions of the book, with Pippin marrying Diamond and having one child, and Merry marrying Estella yet remaining childless.

Of course, this doesn't necessarily mean that Merry didn't have an heir. In the appendix' timeline, it's stated that he and Pippin "handed over their goods and offices to their sons and rode away over the Sarn Ford." This would certainly indicate one other son beyond Pippin's Faramir. The way I see it, this 'second son' was either not recorded (whether deliberately or not, I can't say) or was not a direct descendant. I tend to like the second option, particularly considering the plotbunny currently nesting in my head... (If this inspiration keeps up, there might be a follow-up to this. But be patient. My weekend writing times are going to be busy for the next few weeks.) :)


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